High in the Andes, dreamers have erected various odes to ski redemption. In ’s wine country, that means linking them with odes to consumption.

text Leslie Anthony

“the story of ski arpa is a story of failure,” announces Toni Sponar, a spry, 78-year-old erstwhile Austrian who has variously traced an arc through the ski world as instructor, guide, manager and consultant. It isn’t exactly what guests want to hear before making their first run at South America’s only catskiing operation, but it’s a backhanded truth that brings both charm and edge to one of the world’s wildest ski experiences. In 1981, after overseeing building of the Penitentes Ski Area in Argen- tina, Toni bought land overlooking Chile’s Aconcagua Valley and poured his life savings into a ski dream. He built a two-story lodge on a west- facing bench and installed a small surface tow on an adjacent slope, only

Unlike B.C., this is about as crowded as it gets to see both wiped out in the kind of massive avalanche the high Andes at Valle Nevado heli-skiing. Valle Nevado photo are known for. It was back to the drawing board, back to the bank, and

88 skier skier 89 back to dreaming. One-bitten-twice-shy when it came to infrastructure versus avalanches, Toni started a day-skiing cat operation in 2003, which has grown steadily—despite some devastatingly dry winters—into a one-of-a-kind ad- venture traded in lift-line conversations around the ski world. Ski Apra’s humble base now compris- es two bunker-like refugios built into the hillside below where the lodge once stood. As usual, Toni welcomes today’s group in German, English, Spanish and French. Likewise, affable Anton, Toni’s son and lead guide who also grew up on skis, a distinguished alpine racer at the University of Colorado, when not at Arpa he works for Aspen’s Alpine Guides. Aside from the Sponars, the Arpa crew includes a handful of North American guides that mill outside a bunker pick- eted in über-fat skis, leisurely stirring muddy mugs of instant coffee. There’s none of the vert-crazed go-go-go of High and dry in the Andes? Not when North American cat ops. Good thing, you have a snow-seeking chopper. as our group of Brigid Mander, Sally Bernard/Skier's Cup photo Francklyn, Kristina Schreck and myself are in no shape for hectoring. lance on site to evacuate injured skiers, veteran of adventure which waft the smell of barbecued chorizos and vino tinto. Our previous night in the cosmopoli- events in the middle of nowhere, had opined he found Arpa’s Here we go again. tan capital, , followed the usual tight-curved, snow-covered road the most difficult he’d ever though skiing toni sponar’s dream has been anything but a failure, script: late, delicious dinner of emblem- driven. Ditto most guests. And indeed the bouncing, swerv- we need to return to Los Andes to spend the night, and that atic Chilean tapas at Liguria, a bustling ing ride had rendered us green, particularly Kristina, who at means getting back on the carnival-ride switchbacks with bistro/bar popular with those who like a one point called for a “breathing break.” But we’d arrived with a bellyful of meat and alcohol. It goes better than expected, kitschy, bohemian atmosphere and fleet stomach contents intact, downed some coffee slurry, and, An- and within an hour we’re in Los Andes, which—given where of entertaining, bow-tied waiters. It also ton’s proclamations notwithstanding, were ready to hit it. we’ve been—seems weirdly urbane; doubly weird when we meant too many pisco sours—the na- Herded into the standing-room boxbed of the cat with folks go back in time by pulling into historic Casa San Regis, an tion’s potent cocktail—and exceptional from New York, Vermont, California, Montreal, and France, we elegant estancia that has stood on the same ground in one Chilean wine, then a midnight stroll begin the upward grind to the 3,740-metre summit. A half- form or another since the late 18th century. through hopping Bella Vista and more hour later, any trace of nausea from the cat’s diesel exhaust A white-coated waiter sparks a blaze in the dining room’s drinks along Calle Constitución. We’d (or the hangover… or the altitude… or the road… or the coffee) large fireplace. It still requires keeping close in order to avoid stumbled back to the Aubrey Hotel, a is vanquished: we click into our skis the chill of the high-ceilinged room. chic converted mansion hard against with a view to the Pacific in front and The outside surroundings, creaking the base of Cerro San Cristobel, the to 6,962-metre Cerro Aconcagua—the parquet floors, empty corridors, histo- prominent park-covered, mid-city rise western hemisphere’s highest peak— ry of military headquarters, and long, that also includes a small zoo. Loung- behind. Around us unfold 4,000-plus saga-like occupation by generations Yes, the Andes are big—and you are very, very small. ing in the Aubrey’s slate courtyard, you Valle Nevado photo acres of terrain; as advertised, it’s of the same family convince Sally and can see giraffe’s heads sailing over the unlike anywhere any of us has ever I there are ghosts. Brian says don’t vegetation. skied. Also as advertised for Septem- laugh, and the waiter nods, describ- All we’d seen this morning, however, ber (Andean spring), it’s an adventure. ing precisely where spirits have been were pink elephants, and been way late A skiff of recent snow has left some seen, and whom they represent. None for the Aubrey’s celebrated breakfast ankle-deep powder, but we’re mostly of us wants to hear, but neither can we and our rendezvous with Brian Pearson, skiing areas that the six-metre aver- On the way to Ski Arpa you can see vineyards in the stop listening. Scared to go to bed, and Aconcagua Valley outside of Los Andes. When you get the unrepentant powderhound escort- age annual snowfall has seen fit to there you can drink the wine. Ornitz photo with locals Brian and Kristina recom- ing us under the auspices of his tour abandon, leaving the windboard, sun mending wine after wine, we drink company, Santiago Adventures. Since crust and punishing sastrugi that characterizes the freeze- far too much again, ending the evening with scotch drunk- arriving from the U.S. in 2003, Brian and thaw central Andes. Still, we manage, ripping huge arcs in enly pilfered from somewhere in the vast hacienda. Brian and partner Sira Berté had beetled up and sun-softened snow in some areas, hacking our way down in Kristina are last standing. down the spine of the Andes developing others. Brigid and Sally are superstars. In the morning, I confess to barely sleeping: every creak unique packages that featured the best After a blue-collar lunch (you bring your own here, and and groan of the floor was amplified into footsteps, the ticks activities (and wine) Chile had to offer— squat on rocks surrounded by pincushion cactus and Guana- of a small heater into scratching at my door. The others fared including Ski Arpa, for which it is now co dung), Anton leads the group to Cornisas, an area of steep- no better. Despite the insulation of massive headphones, exclusive booking agent. ish rock ribs that rule when conditions are right. Today, how- Brigid heard noises and ended up shivering outside Sally’s We’d eventually left the highway, ever, they are wrong—not because of any danger but because door until she was let in. They both look rough. Kristina and navigated the dusty agricultural town the only skiable snow is in a shallow bowl on its northern Brian are too hungover to talk—or care—putting on a brave of Los Andes, and headed up a rutted, edge, where we find a few hard-fought turns before popping face as we leave for Valle Nevado. boulder-strewn road dodging goats, onto the cat road. Our final run is the day’s best, a 15-minute valle nevado is a dream of a different sort, a chickens and frosty cactus. Brian spun bootpack then sideslip down a corniced ridge before dropping commercial partnership between Chilean and French tales of helping stage the inaugural stop into a funneling run. It’s chutes and powder up top, crust in the interests modeled on the latter’s purpose-built aerie, Les of the 2011 Freeski World Tour in isolat- middle, schmoo in the bottom. But long, long, long—1,000 ver- Arcs. Located innumerable switchbacks above the town of ed Arpa: the driver of a Hummer ambu- tical metres—landing us a five-minute walk from the bunkers, and the ski areas of El Colorado and La Parva,

At Ski Arpa you pull over for lunch wherever you feel like it. Like the bottom of the Ratonera gully. Ornitz photo 90 skier skier 91 it first opened in 1988. In 2001, it became the first Chilean a cruise ship in the sky.) After all, you get drunk fast under a resort with a detachable lift; 2010 saw the launch of a Master blazing sun at 3,000 metres, especially when there’s no end Plan, with two new lifts installed, five new runs opened, a new to the parade of champagne, wine, and pisco. We can also be day-visitor lot with rental, ski school and ticket booths, and excused for being surprised when two teams of eight, repre- renovation of Hotel Valle Nevado. senting the Americas and Europe, start hucking themselves That’s all well and good, but more important than touring over a road gap and disappearing into a gorge. What we can’t these expansive facilities on arrival is relaxing, which we do be excused for is not skiing, so when we find out that Day 1 of in a pool that amounts to the world’s largest hot tub. Its Tower the competition saw the world’s freeski cream battle it out in of Babel vibe is a trip—Russian, German, Brazilian, Ameri- the expansive heli-accessed alpine adjacent to the resort, we can—as is the process of trying to keep water out of your ori- know what we have to do. fices, or your beer, with kids randomly jumping in on all sides. The Andes are the second-highest mountains in the world, Still, so relaxing is this liquid (or perhaps the beer) that we so heliskiing here is bound to be an eye-opener. Sure enough, almost miss our dinner appointment at Don Giovanni, where our A-Star 350 B3 “ecocopter” (except for the paramecium, we’re surrounded by K2 reps from around the globe attending chromosomes, DNA helix and other cellular junk painted on a sales conference. In one quick sweep of the room we count it, I’m not sure what’s so “eco” about it) comes with an Argus- seven people we know who we didn’t even know were here. eyed pilot intent on doing just that. Taking off from the resort, White planet, small world—as usual. the vertical dropaways as we crest ridgelines heading west No matter, we’re all here to ski, and it’s actually pretty good. are astounding, and we’re deposited in an alpine amphithe- Valle Nevado’s 7,000 acres is the largest skiable domain in atre the likes of which I’ve never seen—nor skied. One 2,000 South America, only a 10th of it beginner level. The area boasts vertical-metre, knee-deep shot I’m blinded not by snow but 80 per cent sunny days, but high altitude and plenty of south- by the smiles of Sally, Brigid and Kristina. ern orientation keep its annual six and a half metres of snow at We should have done more, but we were out of time. And optimal quality: we find powder everywhere we ski for the next that’s when Brain showed up again. Of course, being a tour- two days. On one of those, we deign to climb above the high- oriented kind of guy he had an idea. Instead of going to Santi- est lift from where you can either ski back into Valle Nevado ago on our last day, how about a trip to the port of Valparaiso, or down to La Parva and El Colorado (Valle is linked to these where art and history intertwine in an energetic metropolis resorts and you can ski between them, Euro style). like no other; a smaller, funkier San Francisco with hills and By this point things are corning up nicely, and Sally and fog, but minus the glitz. On the way back we could stop at a Brigid decide to skin up a face under the highest visible peak, few wineries. Or many. Well, sure. If we get tired we’ll just suck El Plomo. The Incas called it Apu, Guardian of the Valley, visit- it up. As we’d learned from Tony Sponar, failure may cross ing it for ceremonial rituals. A famous mummy found there, the your path in the Andes, but in the end, it’s not an option. Boy of El Plomo, now rests in the Natural History Museum of Livin' the dream. Chile. Skiers falling into the crevasses on El Plomo’s glaciers Winter photo. might also expect to be mummified by the high-and-dry air. Editor’s note: In March, 2011, Sally Francklyn, topnotch telemarker and former Worn from two straight days of climbing and skiing (and online editor for Ski and Skiing magazines fell at the top of a couloir in Jackson Hole, slid to the bottom and hit rocks, suffering massive brain trauma. After "Yay!" Will Dujardin at Ski Arpa. Ornitz photo "Neigh!" Ornitz photo possibly wine-soaked lunches and pisco-addled dinners), we being in an induced coma for weeks surrounded by friends and family, “Super- can be excused for taking a breather to watch Day 2 of the woman Sally” awoke to begin the long road to recovery from a grave injury. She 2011 Swatch Skier’s Cup—a contest brainstormed by freeski continues to battle hard, making great strides, and we know she’s aiming for legends Kaj Zackrisson and Sverre Liliequist—from the VIP at least one thing: to get back on the snow again. lounge on one of the hotel’s many decks. (Yes, it’s pretty much

"Woo!" Valle Nevado photo "Boo!" Arpa founder Toni Sponar tries to scare up an avie at his refugio. Ornitz photo DNA theaubrey.com liguria.cl santiagoadventures.com skiarpa.com vallenevado.com swatchskierscup.com Valle Nevado means "snowy valley." Duh. Valle Nevado photo

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